Ale and Lager (Bri)

Berlin, Germany. Ewan had to admit, it wasn't a bad place to go on Holiday. The food was pretty good, the music was interesting, the weather was nice - Ewan was grateful to find that Germany had a similar climate to the UK, he always sunburned whenever he went to Spain -, the lasses were nice to look at, and the ale wasn't half bad. It was hard to believe that only a few decades ago, this place had been a mess. Even harder to believe that only a few decades before that, the only reason he'd ever had to go to Berlin would've been to bomb the hell out of it. It had been a long sought desire during the second World War.

But now wasn't the time to dwell on the past. He was on Holiday! After a long day of touring the sites, sampling the local cuisine, and ogling the lasses, Scotland had finally settled down in a tavern for a night of celebration with his good friend Alcohol. Admittedly, at first he had been afraid that they didn't serve ale, or at least not good ale. He didn't exactly know Germany on a personal level, but from what he did know, he figured the man preferred lager. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the ale here was actually pretty good, though he would never say anything was better than his own ale.

That had been an hour or two ago. Scotland was on his third now, and by this point, he'd even started tapping his foot to the rhythm of the german music. The Scotsman had to admit, he stuck out like a sore thumb. His flaming red hair and tweed suit, complete with the flat cap that most people outside of the UK only wore for golfing, were a bit of a dead give away. Though for once, he wasn't the single hulking figure in the room. He'd spied quite a few young lads with some thick arms. It was certainly different than being in France or Spain. Really, if he spoke a bloody word of German, he might even feel at home.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=z-index,1][atrb=style, background: url(http://i1095.photobucket.com/albums/i473/shahal_sparda/Rp/pretty2berlin-2.png) center bottom no-repeat; width: 500px; height: 560px; padding: 0px;, bTable] Bri had spent a lot of time as of late simply chasing after Gilbert and attempting to keep the obnoxious albino out of trouble. Which wasn't really any different then what she had been doing since the day she had first met him and become his capital, more then just a good few centuries ago now. Lately though the elder Beilschmidt had been especially rambunctious, to put it nicely, though Brigitte would say he was being more stupid then normal. Either way you sliced it, the capital was feeling way too overworked simply trying to baby sit the white haired nuisance, even without the addition of her general daily paperwork. In short, she needed a drink, and badly at that. Brigitte didn't go out drinking very often, preferring to always keep a clear and level head about her should anything happen, but she was tired, overworked, and deeply annoyed. So much so that her mouth seemed to be forever set into a grim line of annoyance that made most people think twice about speaking to her as she walked past, like her ridged military stance and the long scar across her face didn't already help the matter. Pulling the bill of her cap a little farther down in hopes of hiding a bit more of the offending scar, Bri generally kept her head down as she slid into the bar, sitting down and immediately ordering a Pilsner. The woman was tired, leaning on the bar counter in that way that just screamed total weariness, she hadn't even changed out of her training cloths and thus sat in a pair of blue pants tucked into her boots and a white tank top that showed off more then she would have liked normally, but currently didn't care. Her jacket had been used to tie Gilbert to a post somewhere so he wouldn't get into anymore trouble and oh that lager was just what she needed at the moment when she tipped the glass up to her lips and had a sip. Sighing with a certain contentment Bri took a moment to look around the place and immediately spotted the flaming redhead. Must have been on vacation. Closer look though and oh, yep that was Scotland himself wasn't it? A good hostess would probably go over and check on him, see how he was liking the city. But right now she wasn't exactly jumping at the thought of even moving, so instead she leaned down again and nursed the glass in front of her. [style=padding: 15px; font-size: 0.7em;] Date: Present Music: West Wing Notes: See there ya go [/style]

What follows me as the whitest lace of light, will swallow whole just begs to be imbrued? What follows has led me to this place

Scotland hummed a little to the beat of the rythm, though he didn't make an attempt to sing along to what sounded mostly like gibberish to him. He'd picked up a few german words back during the war, but that was hardly enough to understand the language. Luckily, most of these germans spoke english, and a few even spoke french. Still, it was a good song. This was turning out to be a nice Holiday. Away from England's gittery, if that was even a word, the Irelands' little drama fest, and of course the whole mess with the referendum coming up in a few years. He was even considering extending his stay. Edinburgh could handle it for an extra week or so. He'd be fine, if anything went wrong, he had Glasglow's help... On second thought, Ewan decided he should probably call and check up on his capital before he took any extra time off.

That was a problem for later, though. Right now, he was supposed to be relaxing. He noticed a few of the other men at the bar had turned their heads, and so out of curiosity, Ewan followed suit. Sweet Queen Mary, breasts! Scotland was a man, naturally that was the first thing he saw. Especially when the only thing covering them was a white t-shirt. He looked higher, to see the face of this thus far incredibly attractive woman. She was a lovely lass, the scar aside, but he couldn't help but feel she looked eerily familiar. Ewan racked his brain, trying to figure out where he'd seen her. He hadn't exactly met many germans he hadn't been shooting at. He'd seen a few those rare times he actually got to go to UN meets and other international events... Wait... Right! He'd seen her with Germany, that was Berlin herself!

Ewan had to take a moment to inwardly snicker as he realised the double entrende of him being in Berlin. Right after, though, he picked up his ale and his cap, and made his way over. He was dressed in relatively casual wear, a tweed vest and white shirt, sleeves rolled up, black tie, tweed pants, brown loafers... Nothing fancy. " 'Hullo." he greeted. "We've met befaer, but Ah dinnae thnk Ah e're caught yer name. Ah'm Ewan. Ewan McLelland." The country of Scotland. But she probably knew that, so why bring it up? Besides the fact that he'd be announcing it in public.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=z-index,1][atrb=style, background: url(http://i1095.photobucket.com/albums/i473/shahal_sparda/Rp/pretty2berlin-2.png) center bottom no-repeat; width: 500px; height: 560px; padding: 0px;, bTable] Nursing the Pilsner with a sigh Bri kept her blue eyed gaze firmly planted on the bar top in front of her. People were staring, of course they were, someone was always staring when she walked past. She liked to think it was because after so many hundreds of years in the military she knew how to command attention, but without her uniform on, she knew it was mainly just the giant knockers on her chest. How did she know this? Because men had a tendency to point them out, and a few, like the capital of Japan, her dear friend Hiro, had a bad habit of attempting to grope her whenever he saw her. The muscles in her shoulders tightened at the sound of the voice beside her, all she wanted was her drink, to listen to the music in the background and not have to deal with anyone until the moment she had to go home and rope in her wild sister. Because Lulu could be on the same level as Gilbert sometimes, though if you told her that, she would probably stab you, repeatedly. Turning her head slightly she looked at the man from under the bill of her cap, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she had another sip of her lager. "Ja, ve have met before, Scotland," Or at least they had passed by each other on more then one occasion at meetings, whenever she accompanied Ludwig, which was just about always. Bri was always at her country's side when it came to just about everything, always watching his back and always ready to help should he need it in any way, "I am Brigitte, Brigitte Nacht, und I'm sure you know who I am by now," Motioning for him to sit beside her on a stool Bri attempted to gather herself back up and be a good hostess, since he knew she was there and there was no way of getting around it, "How have you been liking Berlin? Everything has been satisfactory vith you visit I hope," [style=padding: 15px; font-size: 0.7em;] Date: Present Music: More West Wing Notes: xD [/style]

What follows me as the whitest lace of light, will swallow whole just begs to be imbrued? What follows has led me to this place

Ewan nodded. "Aye, Ah know. Hope ye dinnae mind me droppin' in without writin'. Thought I'd come fer Holiday, get away from Auld Reekie an' th' chib 'appy weedgie." he explained as he sat down. He wouldn't deny for a moment that he thought she was a beautiful woman, and not just because she was sporting a huge pair of breasts. She was a pretty woman, even with the facial scars. In fact, in a weird way, they complemented her beauty. They were the marks of a strong, fierce woman, something Ewan could very well respect.

"Aye. Tha's a bit of an understatement." he replied, setting his cap down on the table, mug of ale still in hand. "Ah love et 'ere. Y'got a pure braw place, lass." he complemented, raising his mug to take a healthy chug of ale. Setting it down, he rested an arm on the counter, looking to his newfound drinking partner. "An' yer ale's not bad either. Ah dinnae ken why Ah'v nae come 'ere sooner." he added.

To his credit, Ewan's eyes remained on Bri's face. Was he a pervert and a skirt chaser? Oh yes, and shamelessly at that. But that didn't make him a stark raving idiot who couldn't show respect where it was due. "Ah feel a little bad, though. Ah dun interupted yer privacey, didn't Ah?" he asked. "Ah'm sairy fer tha'. Let me make it up t' ya. I'll buy y'a drink." he offered. It was funner to drink with other people anyways.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=z-index,1][atrb=style, background: url(http://i1095.photobucket.com/albums/i473/shahal_sparda/Rp/pretty2berlin-2.png) center bottom no-repeat; width: 500px; height: 560px; padding: 0px;, bTable] "I don't have any idea vat you just said, but a holiday is a holiday, as long as your not out to start a fight, you are velcome anyvere in Berlin, or the rest of Germany for that matter," It was simple enough, as long it was just someone trying to unwind then Bri didn't mind, in fact she welcomed people on vacations, tourism was always good for the economy after all. But she really, honest to God, had no idea what he had just said. Like she needed some sort of subtitles for that second part of the sentence because as much as she mulled it over, the words were not coming together. Again, she blinked, trying to figure out what he was saying, did he come with subtitles? Cause he really should. The accent was rather charming, she would have to admit that much, but words seemed to mean different things there and the thickness, and just the dropping of words......all she could do was nod politely and not try to give him a blank look, she was suer that he had complimented her city and that was more then good enough for her. The woman's back straightened up, shoulders back and head a little higher as she turned to look at him more fully, "Danke Ewan, though I can't say I'm an expert on ale, I can tell you a good lager from Deutschland simply can not be beat," "I von't lie, the day has been long enough to varrent the vant for silence, but contemplation can alvays be saved for another day ja?" Meaning she could worry about everything on her shoulders later, because if he was here, and she was speaking to him then there wasn't any point in not being polite by this point, "It vould be stupid to turn down a free drink," The slightest quirk to the corner of her lips was the only real way to tell that she was attempting a joke, as humor had never really been her strong suit, "You should try the lager, you know," Because the lager here really was the best, "So, how are you then? Ve've never really spoken before I don't think, so excuse my terrible small talk und all," Actually it wasn't that they had never spoken before, it was because she simply sucked at small talk. [style=padding: 15px; font-size: 0.7em;] Date: Present Music: More West Wing Notes: xD [/style]

What follows me as the whitest lace of light, will swallow whole just begs to be imbrued? What follows has led me to this place

The confusion was written all over her face long before she said anything. Ewan put his hand to his forehead and shook his head. "Ah'm saerry, Ah'm saerry. Ah faerget where Ah am." he apologized. "Auld Reekie's me name fer me capital, Edinburgh, an' th' weedgie's Glasgae, me biggest city." he explained. Again, he shook his head. "Saerry. Me english ain't isnae as clear as A'th'rs." France and Spain were just used to it. He should have tried to speak a little clearer.

The Scotsman sipped his ale as she spoke, observing her face. She was beautiful. He'd already seen she was pretty, but now that he actually had a moment to really stop and take it in, she was more than that. And he had to admit, something about her accent was cute, even if the german made it rough. Of course, it wasn't as rough as his. "Not much of a lager man meself, lass." he confessed. "Ale an' whisky are me preferred poisons. Y'willnae find a better ale than in me country." he assured her.

He wasn't very good at small talk himself. It simply wasn't how he was. Back in a tavern in Scotland, there wasn't any need. You ordered a few rounds, someone brought out their instruments, people started talking and dancing, someone bumped someone, a fight broke out, people went to the ER, and Ewan woke up in a back alley half naked with no money. Standard friday night. "Dinnae worry 'bout it. Ah'm no good at small talk anyways." he replied. He looked from her to her lager, then back to her. "Hmm.. Tell y'whut, lass. Ah'll try one of yer lagers if y'try an ale." he offered.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=z-index,1][atrb=style, background: url(http://i1095.photobucket.com/albums/i473/shahal_sparda/Rp/pretty2berlin-2.png) center bottom no-repeat; width: 500px; height: 560px; padding: 0px;, bTable] "Really that is vat you said?" How in the name of Gott had he managed to shove that into those words? Bri was almost amazed at the slang terms the man was using. Though she still had to take a moment to stop and try to decode what he was saying, she had to wonder what exactly that accent would make German sound like, not sure that she would be able to understand him at all. But it was interesting enough, sort of nice even if it seemed rather rough, abrupt and choppy, "Vell, if it means anything, I vould much rather sit und talk to you then Arther, even if I can barely understand you," She cracked a bit of a smile in his direction, having made an attempt at an actual joke. England wasn't one of her favorite people, and she was sure that the bushy eyebrowed man probably hated her still, not that she could really blame him, but still. Shaking her head Brigitte shook the dark thoughts off quickly, her shoulders drooping at just the mere ghost of the thoughts that she had been forced to do and see under that man. It forced her to down her drink quickly, placing the large glass down on the bar top with enough of a 'clunk' that it caught the 'tenders attention and she motioned for another, which he quickly refilled. "I'll imagine, they are very popular in Scotland, ja? But in Deutschland, ve drink lager, und as they say, ven in Rome ja? At some point, you really must try the lager, Herr McLelland," She was always formal with anyone she met unless told she could be otherwise, and even then it was no guarantee that she would actually relax around them, unless there was much more alcohol involved, "Vell, glad to know I'm not the only one," The blonde always felt awkward talkimng to other people because it, she wasn't used to small talk so much as barking orders to people and then watching them scurry to fulfill them, "I can agree to that," She nodded and slid her glass towards him in an exchange. [style=padding: 15px; font-size: 0.7em;] Date: Present Music: News 8I Notes: xD [/style]

What follows me as the whitest lace of light, will swallow whole just begs to be imbrued? What follows has led me to this place

Ewan laughed and slapped his knee. "Aye! Me brother's a real dobber, isnae he?" he asked amidst his jovial and deep chested chuckles. "Yoo think he's bad noo, try livin' wi' heem fur tois thoosain years. He'll drife ye up th' bloody walls." he added, still snikering. "Yer a funay body, lass." Scotland complemented, giving her a tiny applaude." Ye shood think ay daein' comedy.

Ewan grinned. "Thar's a guid lass." he commented, sliding his ale over to her. "An' jist caa me Ewan. Ah dornt need a brammer lassie callin' me maister tae make me feel onie older." he added. Picking up the lager, he raised it to her in salute. "Here's tae ye an' yoors." he toasted, before bringing the lager to his lips. It had been quite some time since he'd had a lager. It was very different from ale. It had a nutty taste to it. Setting it down, he whiped the foam from his lip. "Ahh. that's nae half bad, lass." he admitted.

Reaching into the breast of his coat, Ewan pulled out a metal tin. Opening the tin, he plucked out an open ended cigar, then tucked the ton back into his inner breast pocket. Another reason he was loving this bar was that it provided match sticks. He struck one up and puffed, lighting the thick roll of tobacco. "Sae teel me, lass, whit dae ye dae fur fun haur?" he asked around his cigar. Ah've gain sightseein' awreddy, noo Ahm curioos abit whit else thaur is tae dae besides staur at auld buildins'." he explained. "Bludy heel, Ahm nae gettin' onie easier tae kin, am Ah. Dae ye spick french? Mebbe that'd be easier." he suggested. It was worth a shot, at any rate.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=z-index,1][atrb=style, background: url(http://i1095.photobucket.com/albums/i473/shahal_sparda/Rp/pretty2berlin-2.png) center bottom no-repeat; width: 500px; height: 560px; padding: 0px;, bTable] "I'm not entirely sure vat that means, but I'm quite sure I can agree vith you on that," Brigitte had to let herself chuckle at that, finding herself relaxing just the slightest bit, the tension leaving her shoulders the more time she spent in the red headed mans company, "Comedy? Nein, I am not funny enough for that type of thing," She didn't think she was very funny at all, "In fact, you are zee only person to every say that I vas funny......ever," Most people were just generally intimidated by her, as she was always so stoic and ridged of posture, ever since she was a little girl, always so serious. The blonde didn't crack jokes very often, her humor was decidedly dry and she didn't laugh at very much, always with more of a stoic look on her face. Right now though she indulged in the smallest of genuine smiles, head tilting up so she could look at him better from under the bill of her hat, even if it meant that he probably got a better look of the scar going across her face. Nodding and holding up her own glass she smiled just a bit wider, "Danke, und zee same to you und yours ja?" Brigitte said before having a sip of the ale, it had a prounced full bodied taste to it, "It's not so bad, though I'm curious now vat an ale from Scotland must taste like," German specialty was lager after all. "Fun? I normally train, but we like to drink, fight, eat, und dance in Berlin," It really was what most people had as a past time when they lived there, especially since she tended to stay away from historical sites, as they had a tendency to bring up bad memories, "A lot of tourism is sightseeing und museums, I enjoy the occasional camping though, vhich most people don't think to do here," Bri shook her head, "Nein, it's getting easier, und yes I do speak French," She had picked it up during the war, but she didn't want to talk about that, though it was also the reason she tried not to use it very often. There were just so many bad memories, her shoulders dropped a little and she took a deeper swing of the ale before offering it back to him, "Have you tried absinthe before? I know a good bar to get it," Now that was a recipe for a night. [style=padding: 15px; font-size: 0.7em;] Date: Present Music: Sonne - Rammestein Notes: xD [/style]

What follows me as the whitest lace of light, will swallow whole just begs to be imbrued? What follows has led me to this place

The scotsman quirked a flaming red eyebrow when Bri admitted that he was the first to ever call her funny. "Ye cannae be serioos." he replied, as if it was the most ludicrous thing he'd ever heard. Of course, Scotland was one of the more jovial Nations, it was easy for him to find humor in other people.

Finally, the blonde capital seemed to be lightening up. She even lifted her head a bit, giving him a better look at her gorgeous face. He clinked his raised glass against hers, and watched as she judged the ale. Hearing her verdict, he gave a pleased nod, and grinned. " Aye, ye should. Ye willnae fin' onie ale quite loch th' kin' in mah hoose. Sometimes we e'en turn th' hops intae caramel afair we brew." he replied.

Ewan listened as she described the usual pastimes in Berlin. Unable to contain his glee, he laughed again, his booming voice clearly heard above the white noise. "Ye dornt say! It's loch Ah ne'er e'en left haem!" he laughed. Eaters, drinkers, fighters, she pretty much described his own country with a German accent.

Berlin's mood seemed to drop a bit at the mention of France, and Ewan decided it would be wise not to bring him up a second time. He accepted his ale back, and slid her lager back over to her. The mention of absinthe, though... He was more than familiar with it. In fact, France introduced him to it. "Aye, Ah ken th' bevvy. Powerful mince." he replied. "Ur ye invitin' me tae gang drinkin', miss Berlin?" he asked, flicking the ashes of his cigar off into the tray.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=z-index,1][atrb=style, background: url(http://i1095.photobucket.com/albums/i473/shahal_sparda/Rp/pretty2berlin-2.png) center bottom no-repeat; width: 500px; height: 560px; padding: 0px;, bTable] "Really? That sounds sensible actually," As opposed to just tossing out what was left, "Vat do you do vith the caramel then?" She was actually rather interested, because it seemed like a good and potentially tasty idea. Brigitte was beginning to think that there was a lot more to the country then red hair and bad tempers, and was even beginning to think that if she took a vacation, maybe she would go visit. Because it seemed like fun, and the Ale wasn't so bad, and she did need some time away from Gilbert and all the paperwork that was still on her desk. She had to chuckle just the slightest bit, shaking her head even as a few of the other people at the tavern turned to glance over at them, Ewan was loud, but it wasn't much different from everyone else, just a little unexpected against the murmured background of men trying to unwind after a long day of work, "I take it Scotland is not all that different then? Though I'll bet our food is better," It was basically a challenge, granted the most she remembered was England's cooking, which was simply gross, and Ireland's food, which you had to sip through a straw because it was all stewed in a pot for an entire day. Smirking from under the brim of her hat Brigitte gladly accepted her glass back, having another sip, "Und so vat if I am? Think you can handle drinking in Berlin for an evening?" She didn't drink very much often, mainly because someone had to keep a clear head, but every now and then even she had to let her hair down, which she was sure she deserved by this point. Already she was reaching into her pocket for a few bills to leave on the bar for the bartender, "So vat do you say then? Ready to have a real night in Berlin?" She really hadn't had a chance to issue a challenge like that in a while, the last person was Gilbert, and that never did end well where that drunkard ex-nation was concerned. [style=padding: 15px; font-size: 0.7em;] Date: Present Music: Sonne - Rammestein Notes: xD [/style]

What follows me as the whitest lace of light, will swallow whole just begs to be imbrued? What follows has led me to this place

Ewan took another sip of his ale, flicking the ashes of his cigar into the closest tray. "Whit dae ye think? We brew 'em." he replied, as if it were the most sensible thing in the world. "Gi'es th' ale a sweit taste, ye ken?" The red headed Nation brought the cigar back to his lips, the cherry lighting bright red as he took in more smoke, little whisps escaping his mouth even before the cigar was removed. "Tha's why Scottish ale is th' best in th' warld." he finished with a broad grin.

Her short bit of laughter was returned with a light chucle of his own, the Scotsman feeling a bit of pride in that he could make the German woman laugh. He gave a light nod to her question about Germany and his own little piece of the world. "Aye, soonds abit loch haem." he replied. "Weaither's drier than aam used tae, thocht. It ne'er staps rainin' in Scotlund." he admitted, and though it was a mild exaggeration, it wasn't very far from the truth. Even Wales saw less rain than he did.

When she challenged his food, however, it became serious. "Ye best watch yer gob, lassie." he warned teasingly, prepared to go down the list of the great foods he gave the world, at least as far as he was concerned. "We've got th' best in th' warld. Scotch broth, cock-a-leekie soop, bannocks, porridge, bangers an' mash, an' ay coorse, haggis!" He stated as proud as a Scotsman could, which was pretty damn proud. Most of the foods he'd mentioned weren't that strange. In fact, Berlin was bound to have had most of what he'd mentioned on that list. It was the haggis, however, that pure Scottish phenomenon, that seemed to get him riled the most.

Ewan smirked at the German woman's little challenge. "Dae ye hae onie idea hoo lewd 'at soonded, aw things considered?" he asked, unable to keep the humor of the innuendo to himself any longer. He reached into his wallet, doling out a few euros to pay for the ale. It was a little slow, as he had to check every single note and coin to make sure the denomination was right, seeing as he was used to the pound. "Bluddy mainlain' tender..." he muttered as he counted it out after placing it on the table. Picking up his ale again, he rose the ale bottoms up, downing what remained of the dark colored liquid. Whiping his mouth, he grinned at her. "I've got one condition." he stated, pointing at her cap. "Yoo've got tae gonnae-no hidin' 'at bonnie face under 'at bunnit."